Shellie Experiences Some Bad Elevator Etiquette

Hello folks, I’ve got sweet tea and lemonade iced down and the fans going on the porch. Have a seat and let’s chat…~smile~

I have an interesting experience to report. It happened on an elevator. Elevators are naturally good settings for interesting stories. I’ve read funny lists about things to do in an elevator, like catching non-existent flies and answering your shoe phone, ala Maxwell Smart—sounds like fun to me. And I’ve read lists of things not to do in an elevator, many of which I never would’ve considered in the first place. Here’s a tip, don’t Google that. I made that mistake just now and I’m hoping time will dull the memory. Sometimes, we just need a little breathing space, which goes back to my earlier experience.

I had barely hit the down button when the elevator doors opened, putting me face to face with a lovely lady wearing a curiously mixed expression. I thought it was a look of surprise at first, but when she rushed past me in double time, I concluded it was also one of urgency. Ironically, these are the same two emotions that overwhelmed me as the doors closed behind her. I was surprised by a most noxious fume and urgent about escaping it.

Indeed, as my girlfriends and I would say, “She’d been crop-dusting.”

But, alas, the joke ended up being on me. To add insult to injury, I was only traveling one floor, which means the smell was still quite potent when the doors opened seconds later and that nice smiling businessman stepped in before I could make my getaway. What’s worse, I think he may have recognized me as the Belle of All Things Southern. Oh, sure, I could’ve tried to explain, but don’t we all assume that the barking dog is the guilty one? There was nothing to do but make a quick exit of my own.

I still don’t know what I could have done differently, but with all with all due respect, should you find yourself in that dear woman’s situation with enough time to plan, I would like to make a suggestion. Take the stairs. For all of our sakes, take the stairs.

Hugs,
Shellie